


The Siren's Song

by Bluetreeleaves



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Gift Exchange, Not scary, Spooktacular Santa Halloween Fright Exchange, but fantasy, mermaid au, soulmate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 04:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20868110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluetreeleaves/pseuds/Bluetreeleaves
Summary: Everything in the "Freak Show" was pathetically fake at The Miracle Box Circus - everything... except for one.Mermaid AU





	The Siren's Song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [halfahelix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfahelix/gifts).

> For [Halfahelix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfahelix/gifts) for the Spooktacular Santa Halloween Fright Exchange. Not really scary, but definitely got the vibe! Part 2 will hopefully come tomorrow, but I wanted to get this out before your birthday! :D

_Through an elated grin, he felt the line tug on his fishing rod. Barely strong enough to hold the pole up, Adrien braced himself as the line snapped straight. The smile dropped off his young lips as the pole tugged harder in his hands. _

_He couldn’t let the pole go! His father would skin him alive if he lost another one! _

_“I’m not letting you get away!” he groaned, using every amount of strength his eight-year-old body possessed. A cry from his gritted teeth, he gasped as his toe slipped on the wooden pier and he plunged, headfirst, into the cold ocean. The pole yanked him down, deeper and deeper into the darkness. Panicked, he finally let go, and struggled to swim up. _

_It was too hard. He was too deep…_

_The hand that grabbed his arm was strangely soft - despite being covered in scales. Crimson flashed, even in the black ocean, and he could see her clearly._

_Calm, crystal blue gaze from a pale face. A young girl. Her hands drifted to the sides of his face, her effervescent eyes studying him curiously. He studied her, equally curious, the gentle twitch of her tail, her webbed fingers holding him steadily. _

_Lungs releasing the last of his breath, Adrien’s brain felt foggy. The last he saw was the girl’s panicked face growing closer. _

_He woke in his bed three days later. _

_He had no memory of what happened before he fell in the ocean._

_******************* _

It was a simple visit. Investment talks for branding purposes. Nothing spectacular, so his father had no trouble sending his son to do the dirty work. 

And what dirty work it was.

He scoffed, green eyes flicking boredly over the sweltering, dark-lit “Freak Show” tent. Cane thumping on the dirt floor, he stopped at the cage of “The Bearded Lady”, a slow pitiful smile lifting on his lips. Even through the lantern light, he could see the melting glue on the woman’s chin, rolling sweat peeling the thick hairs off her heavy face. Gaze slipping to the next cage, he almost laughed at the “Two Headed Boy”. 

The wax figure strapped to the boy’s shoulder was a goopy mess, ‘head’ lolling unnaturally to the side. 

“I believe I came here for a “Freak Show”, not a collection of fakes and frauds,” he commented dryly to the nervous Ringmaster beside him. Gesturing to the “Tattooed Man” in the corner, whose ink was beginning to run down his chest, Adrien blinked disinterestedly down at the little man. 

The Ringmaster wrung his hands nervously. “I’m sorry, sir. October has been unnaturally hot for the season.”

“Hmph.” Adrien grunted softly, turning to survey the small tent with an unimpressed air. “If you want this deal, you’ll have to do better than this. People expect real freaks, not these cheap knock-offs. How you’ve survived with this terrible array of smoke and mirrors is beyond me. We want the Agreste brand to be seen, not shunned. By the way,” he turned to the large woman with a genteel smile, “your beard is coming off, madam.” 

Her hands clapped to her furry cheeks, eyes wide with embarrassment.

The Ringmaster’s thin shoulders straightened sharply, pride struggling to rise under criticism. “It may all be smoke and mirrors to you, but I assure you, I have the real deal. A true freak.”

“A true freak? I wonder what this boy’s second head has to say about it.” Adrien smirked, nodding at the kid. The boy’s gaze lowered sadly, small fingers straightening the barely hidden straps under his vest. “So, where is this _true freak_ then?”

The man’s thin goatee bobbed up and down with his mouth. Waiting as the Ringmaster searched for words, Adrien scratched the side of his face impatiently.

“Well, you see, Monsieur Agreste,” the man finally confessed, “to be honest, I… I’m afraid the exhibit isn’t quite prepared for her.”

“Prepared?” Adrien inquired skeptically.

The Ringmaster wrung his hands again, glancing nervously at the tattooed man in the corner. Adrien followed his gaze and noticed the freak’s eyes were narrowing dangerously. Brushing away a flop of brilliant red hair, the inked man stood from his chair, hands tightly gripping the bars of his cage.

“You see, I lack certain equipment to keep her when she's in her true form-”

“Fu!” The tattooed man snarled.

“-It is why I need the funding! I promise, once she's an attraction, everyone will know this was sponsored by _The Agrestes!_”

“I don’t understand,” Adrien said. “What equipment do you need?”

“You promised, old man! You promised Marinette wouldn’t be a part of this!”

The two-headed boy let out a small whimper from his cage, lips trembling as if holding back tears. 

“She can’t! You know she can’t!” The tattooed man continued. “Don’t do this!”

“Silence!” Fu suddenly snapped. “She works for me! She’ll do as I say! She knew this was only a matter of time!”

A hitch of curiosity spiked inside Adrien. Sweeping his eyes once more over the dark tent, he saw no women except the bearded one. All eyes were on the Ringmaster, equal looks of horror and anger hardening on each face. 

“Show me the freak and you’ll get your deal,” Adrien promised. The head of his cane, a jewel-studded butterfly, sparkled enticingly in the lantern light.

The inked man rattled the cage bars. “No!” 

“Quiet, Nathaniel,” the bearded lady hissed. 

The tattooed man growled at her. “After all she’s done for you and you won’t even defend her!”

“Please,” the two-headed boy mumbled. “I don’t want her to be out here but yelling about it is making things worse.” Flicking his large eyes at Adrien, the non-verbal communication was clear: the more they spoke about this mysterious freak, the more Adrien wanted to see for himself. 

And it was true.

“Right this way.” The Ringmaster turned to Adrien with a quick, screwed-on smile. Gesturing to the striped flap, Adrien left the stuffy tent with the short man following at his heels. “Very protective of our own, you see. The Miracle Box is less of a circus and more of a large family. All camaraderie-”

“Where is the freak?” Adrien asked, his air of indifference masking his curiosity. 

“Follow me!” The Ringmaster said briskly, heading to the right. Brushing past a small crowd gathered around a sword-eater, they headed further away from the throngs of customers to a more secluded, quiet spot. A whisper of apprehension snaked down Adrien’s spine as the Ringmaster stopped in front of a tiny tent pitched a little beyond the main attractions.

“Marinette is our resident seamstress for the time being. She is quite nimble with those fingers of hers. Why, I ripped my cloak just the other day and she patched it up without a snag of fabric-”

“The freak is in there? Why is it so far away from everyone else?”

“Ah-” The little man stopped and swallowed audibly - a thin line of guilt flicking behind his eyes. “The excitement of the crowds is a little much for her.”

Stepping past the Ringmaster, Adrien stood at the door flap to the tent. Hand reaching to pull it aside, he stopped as a thin voice broke past the fabric and sang into his ears. It was a simple song hummed behind closed lips, but the melody lowered, hauntingly, and his thoughts whisked to uncharted seas, clouds storming above, floods rising and falling with the tide. 

The Ringmaster, stepping to Adrien’s side, simply smiled up at him. Grabbing the fabric from Adrien’s frozen fingers, he opened the tent and a pair of crystal blue eyes flickered into his. Dark hair the color of the deepest ocean, skin as clear as a pearl, the girl’s beautiful song cut off as she glanced from the Ringmaster to Adrien and back again. Delicate hands lowering the dress she’d been working on, she stood from her chair and gave a polite nod in greeting.

The Ringmaster simply grinned. “Monsieur Agreste, meet Marinette, my siren.” 

_*******************_

It would take three months for the equipment to arrive - and all that time, Adrien couldn’t get the mysterious girl out of his mind. Since that night, he could hear her song - flitting like fins through his dreams. It was several days later, Adrien could barely stand it. He had to see her again - if only to shut the sound of her voice from his mind. He urged the carriage to The Miracle Box, the excuse of “checking on our investment” dripping from his lips. 

Walking through the circus during the downtime hours showcased an entirely different scene. 

In the daylight, it was a controlled chaos, people fluttering to and from in various stages of undress. A gasp, Adrien collided with a fleshy wall and stumbled. Looking up, it was the bearded lady - no longer bearded and wearing only a thin dressing gown. 

“Oh-oh!” she wheezed, heavy arms covering her large breasts. “You’re that young man from before. If you're looking for Fu, he’s around the main tent most of the time. Just that way.” She gestured to the left.

Properly thankful and blushing to the roots of his blond hair, Adrien quickly ducked around the woman and followed her directions to the huge circus tent. Entering, his green eyes found her immediately and his heart thundered in his chest. 

She was smiling at a little boy. Kneeling on the dirty ground, she held up a small sock, a patch stitched in the heel. Bending down, she slipped the sock on the boy’s dirty foot and gave him a kind nod. Watching her fiddle with the boy’s shoe, Adrien’s legs had moved towards her without thinking. 

“Ah, Monsieur Agreste!” The Ringmaster’s voice snapped the air and the girl’s head whipped up in surprise. 

Blue landed on green and the song was back. 

It no longer tortured him. 

_Soothing - the crashing of waves danced in his mind. It was freedom, a promise from the shackles his life had given him-_

He’d spoken with Fu at length about something. Signed a paper. Pressed his Agreste seal into an order form and left. 

That night - the song was brighter. 

Like crimson starlight. 

*****************

There were only a few allowed inside the big tent that day. Everyone else was to wait. Adrien, being an investor, was shown in as soon as he’d arrived at the front. Much to his dismay, the red-haired man, no longer covered in ink, was standing closely behind the girl. 

There was another gentleman, dressed in a fine suit, that was protectively holding her hand. Blue dyed hair underneath a fedora, the man turned to whisper something in her ear and she gave him a small smile. 

Adrien felt an unnatural wash of anger burn. Gripping his cane tightly, he resisted the urge to march over and yank her away from the gentleman - opting instead to lean against the back stands with teeth gritted behind closed lips.

“Behold! Our newest attraction: The Siren!” The Ringmaster came around from proudly inspecting the large tank. Triple the size of Adrien, it was a sight to behold, slowly filling with water. Adrien glanced back at the girl as she slowly let go of the gentleman’s hand and walked determinedly to the tank. 

The light of the water danced across her body and Adrien sucked in a tight breath. A flash of something scarlet skittered along her skin - like _scales._

“Marinette!” the red-head called out. “Please! Think about this!”

Blue eyes like ice, she glanced over her shoulder and shook her head. Suddenly, her gaze flicked on Adrien and he felt his limbs freeze. Her back straight, her eyes wide, she bit her lip shyly. Legs moving without another thought, Adrien hurried from the stands and into the jutted circle at the center of the tent. The shadows of water drifted over her once more, shimmering hints of scarlet red across her porcelain skin. 

“Come now, Marinette.” The Ringmaster’s voice slipped around the circular tent. 

“As you can see, the investor is watching you. He has given us a fortune. You don’t want to let our family down, do you?” 

Adrien couldn’t speak, a sharp strangling guilt erupting inside. He didn’t know why, but this was wrong. He could feel like a deep aching regret. 

Taking a step closer, the Ringmaster hurried to block his path. 

“You came to see a true freak, Monsieur Agreste. I shall give you one as you’ve never seen before.”

Blue eyes lowering, they sparked with hurt. She turned away, and he wanted to cry out; words strangling inside his throat. She grabbed the knotted rope dangling from the top of the tank and, with an unnatural strength, she climbed to perched on the edge. 

Behind him, Adrien heard the tattooed man whisper, “don’t look at her, Luka,” and two pairs of feet shuffled away. 

As silent as a prayer, she dropped into the tank. Dark locks whipping above her head. A handful of heartbeats, she hovered in the tank. A simple woman.

Adrien gasped as the crimson laced across her skin, stitching together. Defined fingers grew webbed. Shoes fell away to fins that slowly knitted together. With a scream that forced Adrien to cover his ears, the girl ripped off her simple dress, the scarlet scales growing up the sides of her waist. Twisting in an open cry of agony, a smooth flash of her blue eyes drifted to his face and Adrien fell to his knees. 

“She’s perfect,” the Ringmaster said lowly. 

She was. 

Dark locks drifting over her thin shoulders, she was breathing hard, the gills on the side of her neck pulsing rapidly. Shifting, she placed a webbed hand on the glass. Shambling to his feet, he walked towards her as a man condemned. His hand touched the cold cage.

Her song burst in his head and his vision wavered: _darkness. A vast ocean of silence. And then-_

_“I am sorry,” _the voice was quiet and gentle. _“I cannot speak to you as a human. I try not to as much as possible, but sometimes I must sing. It is in my nature. Fu must have known and brought you to my tent that night. He tricked you. That man is the only one who has heard my song without it corrupting his mind.”_

_“What are you?” _Adrien asked the darkness. 

_“I am something you should try to forget. You must move on. Don’t think about me. Finish your business with Fu. This place isn’t for someone like you. It is toxic.”_

_“And how do you know what I’m like?”_

The voice sighed and it sounded like a gentle crashing of waves. _“You are the son of a rich man. You belong in your world of fancy and freedom.”_

_“I don’t have freedom. Not like what I see in your song-”_

“Get away from the glass!” A roar ripped away the darkness and Adrien blinked. He noticed her sad smile before he was grabbed and pulled off. Flipping her tail, she drifted to the bottom of the tank and curled on the metal floor.

“My apologies, Monsieur Agreste, but you simply must be careful with the merchandise. Now that she has successfully transformed, she is priceless.”

“Successfully transformed?” Adrien asked quizzically, mind still muddled from his connection with her.

“She can’t change back. Once a siren loses her legs, she can never return to land,” Fu announced with a grin. “Quite the freak, isn’t she?”

The horror was open on his face. Catching her blue gaze, she placed a hand back on the glass.

_“Forget about the song,” _she mouthed.

_“Forget about me.”_

_*******************_

He couldn’t forget. 

He heard her constantly - a melody he embarrassingly found himself humming along to at random intervals. Several meetings with his father had concluded with strange looks and dismissive sighs. 

It had been a month since the new attraction was announced at The Miracle Box. Adrien had only seen her four times since then. Her tank, moved to the “Freak Show” part of the circus, was constantly covered with bodyguards and gawking customers. She was behind a curtain most of the time – dramatically unveiled to those with VIP tickets.

The last time he’d visited, Adrien caught her clouded gaze for a handful of blessed seconds, his heart frantic in his chest. 

She’d turned away, sinking to the bottom of the tank. The tops of heads blocked her from him. Desperate, Adrien had pushed his way through just when the bodyguards forced the crowd away. 

As he’d left, looking urgently over his shoulder for just another glimpse of her, a thin growl came from the tattooed man. 

“What’s wrong, rich man? Feeling guilty?”

He was. More than words could say.

Her song was clear as a bell. 

And it always would be.

Unless he did something about it.


End file.
